


Certain to Impress

by orphan_account



Category: Monster Prom (Visual Novel)
Genre: Based on a dream I had, Multi, Pining, They/Them Oz, damien experiences one (1) emotion, demons gotta sleep too u know, let oz free, more tags to come, stress knives, usual damien language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-11
Packaged: 2019-06-06 02:58:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15185228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Damien meets new people, and ends up having the worst experiences of his life: emotions.(one really dumb, really gay fic.)





	1. damien fucks up

**Author's Note:**

> hi!!!!! this is my first time writing damien and as a warning, i dont know what's going on. its mostly me experimenting with writing ngl  
> i apologize for whatever mistakes my shaky lil hands have left behind

Damien is a prince. He is very much aware of this.  _ “Princes _ ,” his dads  would always say, “ _ are just and smart and fearless. They know what they're doing, and do things for their people _ .”

And you know what? Damien is 100%  _ all  _ of those things, despite what some might say about him. So what if there's a lot of arson or murder? It's arson and murder for the good of the people. 

Those nuns he nearly burnt to death? Clear threats to his parents. (Nuns are, after all, the natural enemies of demons.)

The bank guard he killed while helping Vera rob a bank? He was going to hurt Vera and get him arrested again. 

That goblin he beats up all the time? 

Well… that one's a little less obvious. Miranda had told him about life with butlers and servants, and had been disgusted at his lack of workers. So she hired him a goblin servant, though all Damien really does is punch him. He gets paid pretty well, though, from what he's heard.  

So all in all, Damien thinks he's a pretty fucking good prince. 

Life is rad for Damien. Really, really fucking rad. Except school, because learning sucks ass. 

But that's why Damien is in his usual spot- the bathrooms, sitting against the wall and playing games on his phone while he listens to the sound of people screaming about fire. The big outdoor area by the bathrooms had been lit on fire by none other than Damien (fucking) LaVey some ten minutes ago. 

Unfortunately for him, Principal Giant Spider had come around to kill the fun by searching for the culprit (Damien). In order to  _ not  _ get in trouble, Damien went to the least obvious hiding spot ever, also known as the bathrooms. And since his phone just died, Damien is now left sitting against the bathroom wall like some weak little kid with nothing better to do. 

He groans (screams) angrily. What the fuck does that asshole spider think he's doing, forcing Damien to run away from his work? Why does his phone choose  _ now  _ to die on him? Where did he put his stress knife?! 

Man, life is hard. 

Damien stands up, shoving his phone into his pocket and searching the other for his stress knife. Stress knives are like stress balls, but more sharp and metal. They're great for stress relief in his opinion. He takes his out and mindlessly tosses it in the air, watching it go up and down. 

There's nobody in here for him to punch, and there's nothing in here for him to light on fire thanks to the Prank Masterz replacing all the toilet paper with glass and sandpaper. This leaves Damien at a loss as to what he should be doing with his life. 

“Um… excuse me,” comes a small voice. It's downright  _ tiny  _ and the kind of voice an absolute noob would have.

Damien gets a fist ready and whirls around to punch whoever dares to interrupt his internal monologue. The only problem is that he sees nobody there, just an empty room. This makes it worse, because this means that someone tried to interrupt him  _ and  _ hide from him. 

“Fuck you,” Damien spits out without thinking, whipping out his stabbing knife. He spins in a circle, trying to locate the source of the tiny voice. “Where the fuck are you?! You can't just  _ interrupt  _ my thinking and then hide like some little-"

The shadows  _ move.  _ They fucking  _ move _ , all at once, slithering underneath his feet like some sentient puddle. He tries to kick at it, but of course you can't really kick a puddle. 

Though he can't seem to hurt the puddle, the  puddle sure can hurt him. A jet black hand extends from the puddle and holds his foot in place, weird black goop enveloping his shoe and ankle. It is, simultaneously, horrifying and absolutely  _ metal.  _

It becomes even better (?) when the inky blob on the floor suddenly stands up behind him, forming into a big… shadow thing, some big black monster with bright white eyes, big ol’ teeth and Damien's murder knife in a hand. 

 

Damien has no idea who or what he's looking at, but he's pretty sure he's ready to fight it. In fact, he's got two fists covered in fire and raised by the time the thing opens its mouth. 

 

The problem is simply that neither of them get to move. The bathroom door opens and the shadow monster immediately dissipates into the walls. Principal Spider walks in like the asshole he is, all eight legs still attached. 

 

The second the principal's eyes land on him, Damien knows it's over for now. Since he can't melt into the walls (seriously, how badass is that?), Damien is all alone in the bathrooms. This gives the principal every chance to drag him off, lecturing him about ‘student safety’ and ‘property damage’ and other lame stuff like that. 

Because Damien is a curious boy, he looks back over his shoulder. It's totally not because he wants to see where the little, shadowy fucker went. He turns just in time to see a small body rise up out of the puddle-looking thing, a bright yellow sweater popping out with it. 

Damien is so stunned by what he sees that he nearly chokes on his own saliva. The fucker that tried to mess with him is actually some tiny, meek looking little noob. There's big eyes on its face, and a mess of hair on its head. He looks weak. Tiny. Like a little coward instead of that giant  _ thing  _ that had tried to stab him earlier. 

Something about that is kinda nice, actually. Despite being two seconds from detention (again), Damien feels oddly…  _ okay.  _ He feels okay. Intrigued, actually. In fact, he’s pretty damn hyped!

Damien decides he wants to know more about this little guy. After he gets out of detention, of course. 


	2. damien burns stuff

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler: this fic will only get dumber and gayer as it goes on.

Damien spots the little shadow fucker again exactly three days later, halfway across the cafeteria. He's next to a zombie and some other unimportant people. They're eating lunch, like most people do at lunchtime. 

He watches them from afar. Zombie man is staring at his phone with the most emotionless gaze Damien has ever seen. He's not listening to the other, who looks pretty worried, if anything. 

That's good, though. He better be worried.  _ Nobody _ tries to stab Damien and gets away with it, even if they were totally badass about it in the process. 

The shadow person-thing (Damien really needs to get a name for this noob) suddenly snaps their head up, staring straight at Damien. Their eyes widen and they frantically tug at the zombie's arm. 

He finds himself grinning. Is this what Vera means when she talks about intimidating people? 

A part of him wants to get up and go after them, maybe scare them a little more by talking to them. The other, notably hungrier part of him wants to sit back and finish his lunch. It's fishstick day, and Scott is busy so Damien gets his fishsticks all to himself. 

One of the many problems with eating alone, Damien realizes, is that he is left alone to his thoughts. He  _ could  _ start a fire or something to kill time, but there's nothing worth burning around. 

He could also go after  _ them,  _ but is it worth it? Chasing down some person he’s only seen once in his entire life just to talk to them and say something like,  _ “I know you kinda almost stabbed me, but it was actually super fucking cool and I wanna talk to you because of it”  _ like some kind of creep? 

The answer is yes, obviously. 

He's pretty sure he's seen them around before. The library, maybe? Seems like a place for nerds to hang out. And that person seemed like a  _ huge  _ nerd. Probably reads that dragon porn stuff he's seen Polly read. 

Damien shoves the last of his fishsticks into his mouth and gets up, making his way towards the library. He's never actually paid attention to the library's location, but he knows where it is anyways because Liam makes him wait outside of it whenever they meet up together. 

(Liam just doesn't like him being  _ inside  _ the library because he doesn't want him to burn it down, but that's something for a different story.)

The library is… quiet. Too quiet and too flammable for Damien's liking. There are so many books and wood things in here. How has he never set it on fire before? 

Oh, right. He doesn't come in here because he hates reading. And since he's never in here, he's never thought to burn it down. 

Regardless, Damien is now in the library and  _ boy is it an experience.  _ There's a lot of books, and people are gambling on the computers like nobody's business. He looks around the brightly lit room, trying to find a certain monster. In all honesty, this would be so much easier for Damien  if the little noob was a bit taller, so Damien could see them over the shelves and computers. 

But alas, the noob is a midget. So Damien must search the old fashioned way, by walking and actually having to use his brain. Shocker. 

As he walks up and down rows of bookshelves, Damien will not deny that he lights a  _ couple  _ books on fire. Mostly the really lame looking ones about math, because Damien hates math. He sees no tiny shadow monster in this area. 

Moving on to a section filled with, of all things, dragon novels, Damien is about at his wit’s end. He's spent all of fifteen minutes in this library and he's gotten nothing at all, and quite frankly, it's pissing him off. 

He grabs a book off the shelf and immediately ignites it out of frustration, giving a poorly muffled growl as he does so. 

(Since it's a library, he has to be quiet. That means he growls instead of screaming in frustration.)

The burning book falls onto the carpet below, slowly beginning to spread flames across the floor and up wooden shelves. The flames quickly pick up their pace and spread effortlessly throughout the books. Damien throwing stuff into the fire probably doesn't help any. 

He's about to set the computers on fire when he spots something black and yellow moving along the other fleeing students. This is where he calls out to them, completely forgetting about the library rules. 

“HEY, FUCKFACE! YELLOW SWEATER BITCH!” 

They look over, eyes wide with fear. Damien rushes over to him and quickly grabs him before he can make an escape. Whoever they may be, they're certainly not as bold as they had been back in the bathrooms a few days ago. They shrink back, pressing themselves against the wall. 

Damien now learns that height differences are a thing. He has to tilt his head down a little to properly look them in the eyes. That's cute, but in a stupid way. It makes it easier for Damien to punch their ass to Hell and back. 

Damien narrows his eyes, tugging him up and closer so that they're both at eye level. “What's your name, fuckface?”

“Uh…” They don't say anything for a moment, instead they just look around worriedly. 

To be blunt, Damien is having none of this shit. He gives an angry cry, pushing them back against the wall so they can't get away easily. “I ASKED you a fucking QUESTION!” 

“Oz!” They shriek out their name in a loud, panicked tone. He can feel their legs kicking at Damien's uselessly. “P- Put me down! My name is Oz!”

Huh. So that's their name. “And why should I do that, huh?”

“Because we’re in a burning room! And I burn!” Oz squirms in Damien's grasp. It is now that, for whatever reason, Damien's mind decides to register that Oz has tiny little arms compared to Damien. They'd be a horrible puncher. 

Would that explain why he changed into the giant monster? Damien supposes it makes sense- you don't need fists if you're suddenly ten meters tall and have a knife. It's kinda hot, actually. Damien's into the giant pointy teeth. He won't deny that. 

Before Damien can get another word in, Oz takes advantage of the awkward pause in conversation and just  _ melts  _ through Damien's hands. Oz is now a small blob at Damien's feet, squished up against the wall defensively. 

“That's fucking  _ metal _ ,” Damien blurts out, like a dumbass. “Can you just melt whenever you want?”

He gets no verbal response, just a hesitant look from the Oz Puddle. Damien briefly wonders if Oz can talk in their elusive Puddle Form. 

As if on some sick, plot-advancing cue, the bell rings to signal the end of lunch. Oz’s eyes widen with something like surprise (it's hard to tell with no mouth), and just like that they zip out of the room via window. 

Damien is left to stare after Oz, silently cursing this shitty, cliche school and its cliche school tropes. 

 


	3. damien takes a nap

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the beginning part is based off of Damien emerging from the oven (probably where he was born tbh)
> 
> Also, bananas aren't all that rich in potassium. Potatoes are a far better choice (nearly twice as much usually) and they're pretty good for fiber too. Of course... this is with the peel on, not without. 
> 
> i crave scott hhhhhhhh

The oven is nice and cozy on the inside, much to Damien's surprise. The flames feel good against his skin and the walls of it are a comforting shade of reddish-brown, kinda like the ones at home. It's much bigger than Damien imagined. He could spend a couple hours in here, he decides, but that's for a different day. 

Footsteps come towards his happy oven, and then a rush of cold air comes in as the oven door opens. Damien shoves the chef aside, ignoring the panicked cries from the workers, and jumps out. His gaze is set on one little fucker in particular. 

Oz is sitting at a small table off to the side, their eyes widening at the sight of Damien sprouting from the oven flames. They glance behind him at the kitchen, then back up at Damien with a stunned expression. 

“Hey noob,” Damien greets. He sits himself in the chair across from Oz. “How's life? Any good crimes lately?”

Oz makes a face that can only be described as a pout, but without the frown or eyebrows. “W- Where's my pizza? What did- where did it go?”

“Oh. I ate it. You have really shitty taste in toppings, by the way,” Damien comments. He can still taste the weird, kinda-mushy texture of the peppers Oz had ordered. “Who the fuck puts peppers  _ and  _ pineapple? You're a fucking sicko.”

Oz is visibly disgusted. “I didn't order either of those, I ordered a plain cheese…”

“Oh. Well, fuck.” Damien just ate someone else's pizza. That's alright, though, because whoever ordered such a nasty pizza has to be some kind of freak. Then again, he's the one that ate it, so what does that say about him? 

“Uh… not to be rude,” Oz says, as if they could ever sound rude with their shaky little voice,”but uh… Why are you here?”

Damien grins. “Well, you see, someone told me you'd be here tonight. And since you're such a smartass, I decided I'd come eat with you and…”

What was his plan again? All Damien remembers is spontaneously deciding to come find Oz (which coincidentally happened to be around the time he accidentally released his dads’ pet hellhounds into a cathedral). So he did a bit of “research" and ended up at this pizza place. And to give himself an entrance as kick-ass as he can manage, he hid in the oven. 

“And?”

“And I forgot what else was gonna happen. But that doesn't matter! Since you're here now, we should go do some fucked up shit!” Damien slams his hands down on the table excitedly, leaving charred cloth and wood where his hands were. “Come on, you've got to have a good idea!”

Oz is surprised by Damien's sudden…  _ Damien-ness,  _ but they don't run off like some people do. Instead they look around the restaurant, back at Damien, and gesture to the door. “We can go find a farm and burn the crop fields?”

Damien makes a face. A disgusted face. Farms are boring. And they smell like cow shit. 

“Uh… we… we can go set something on fire?” Oz looks hopeful. 

Damien, truthfully, thinks it's not too bad of an idea. He nods, standing up and immediately setting his chair on fire. “Alright, noob, then we start here.”

Oz nods back at him. They grab the tablecloth and toss it into the fire with a small laugh.  “Okay. We should go hide knives in the pizzas as they bake so people, uh… You know. Get hurt.”

_ They're trying.  _ Damien finds it kinda cute. But not cute like a kitten, cute like a really tiny knife or a tiny venomous spider. That's because Oz is cute, but not  _ that  _ cute. 

They're also holding two knives clearly meant for pizza in their hands, the wooden handles in flames. Damien is oddly content with watching Oz chuck the fire knives across the room, one hitting the (wood) floor and the other hitting a rather unfortunate banshee in the shoulder.

And you know what? It's kinda hot. People with good aim and nice arms are  _ kinda  _ hot. Like, 20% hot. (28% tops.)

The fire begins to spread. Damien quickly tries to brush off his weird moment by flipping the table over. By this point the other customers are freaking out and trying to avoid fire. This is good for them, because moving targets are  _ far  _ more fun than stationary ones. 

Something is thrown his way. He catches it and is surprised to see a hastily made molotov cocktail, fashioned from pieces of flaming tablecloth and a fancy bottle of wine. Nice. 

He looks up and meets Oz’s gaze. They've got a couple more in their hands, and gesture towards where flashes of red and blue are. Damien tenses slightly. Fucking cops are always ruining his fun. 

“Shit. Come on, asshat, we have to get out of here before they catch us!” Damien grabs Oz by the hand and drags him out the back entrance (or what's left of it). 

Oz is actually pretty easy to lead around, Damien notes. And they have a little shadow-friend-thing on their shoulder carrying the molotovs for them. That's kinda smart. Oz is smart. 

Oz is also leading the way, now that he looks at it. They're walking down the street together, carrying weapons and stolen wine bottles. Oz isn't saying anything, and Damien doesn't know what to say in such an odd situation. 

Well, okay, maybe the situation itself isn't what's weird. Oz is the weird one here, because they make Damien feel weird. Good logic, right?

“Where are we going?” Damien breaks the silence, looking around the near-empty streets curiously. “It's the middle of the night. Where the fuck are you-"

“I wanted to go find a grocery store… or something like that,” Oz says softly. They turn to face Damien and shrug. “Polly told me you hate bananas, so I thought we-"

Damien is taken aback by their response. Where did they learn about that? “Why would you hang out with  _ Polly?”  _

“My friend Vicky is dating her. So she comes to our house a lot.” Oz is now leading him across the street. “She told us about how she read the nutritional facts of a demon compared to a banana and you got angry.”

He glares at the ground at the thought of those potassium-rich fucktoys being able to be better than him. Damien tosses a cocktail off at a car parked along the curb out of anger. The car explodes. 

“It's just not fair! What if I wanna be rich in potassium, huh? I only have twenty milligrams of potassium! It's a load of shit.” Damien is suddenly insanely aware of how he's still holding Oz's hand. That's concerning, because his hands are both on fire. Didn't Oz say they burned? 

“You know what has more potassium than a banana?” Oz  _ grins.  _ Like, a mouth opens up from their void-like face and it's a smug, smug grin made of rows on rows of jagged teeth. 

Damien is both overwhelmingly curious and infuriated. “What?”

“Potatoes. You wanna go destroy some?” Oz is smirking. That's not an expression Damien ever thought he'd see on someone like them. 

He feels his face grow hot, which says a lot considering he's got a naturally high body temperature due to being from Hell itself. Without thinking, Damien quickly storms into the store in front of them. He doesn't even know when they arrived, or when they stopped talking. 

The urge to destroy is strong. Damien grabs a display case of food and shoves it over, apples harmlessly spilling across the floor. Oz is right behind him, tossing the last molotov cocktail at some other ugly fruit display. 

Damien is relieved that this place is closed. He and Oz end up violently destroying the sacks of potatoes for sale, and sacrifice all the bananas available to the nearest Dark Lord, to support local business. 

By the time dawn comes, he and Oz are drunk off of cheap wine and sitting in the middle of a pile of flaming debris. Damien is falling asleep and Oz is staring up at the sky. There's ash and burn marks all over their sweater, and a bottle of liquor in their hand. It's on fire, but Oz is drinking it anyways. 

Damien sits up the best he can. A strange feeling is stirring in him and dear fuck does he  _ hate it.  _ Vulnerability sucks and so do emotions. Thankfully, Damien is too drunk to place exactly what it is. 

He settles with simply napping for now. Oz will (hopefully) wake him up if someone comes along to arrest them. Hopefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> spoiler: they do not. oz goes to school like a good child and damien fucking.... perishes or something idk.


	4. damien tries to use his brain

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ah!! Its been a while, but that's okay!  
> short, simple and a relatively pointless, just like everything else ive written!! 
> 
> I'll maybe edit this later. i must sleeeeep

"You know, for a noob, you're an asshole. A big, shady fucking ass. Like, an ass that isn't even worth fucking,” Damien announces. 

Oz blinks in surprise. There is literally no other reaction from them other than the single blink. It's a sad attempt at his usual snarkiness, yes, but Damien keeps himself going for the sole sake of his pride.

He grabs a ball off the ground and chucks it at some poor sap on the other side of the gym. Damien turns to Oz for a second, watching them kick ass at dodgeball. 

“Didn't you say you'd wake me up? I could've sworn you promised, you lying noob.” 

Oz gives him a deadpan stare. “I made zero promises. Why would I ever make a promise to you?” 

“Uh, because I'm the devil? And making deals with the devil usually involve a trade, you know. And I'm fucking awesome at trading.” Damien takes a moment to smirk and run a hand through his hair. He feels pretty smug right now. 

A rubber ball is shoved into his hands. “Me telling you to wake up is not a deal. Besides, you would hate to have woken up.” 

Oz is right. Damien doesn't like that. He loves sleep almost as much as he loves his makeup or fire. Sleeping by the fire is also a good thing, it keeps him warm and feels nice on his skin. Maybe Oz has a point. 

“...Alright,” Damien mumbles. “Still an asshole, though.”

Two balls are in his hands. He tosses them as hard as he can, slamming poor Scott in the nose. Scott is sent off to the side of the gym, pouting around a bloody nose. Damien feels a little better after that. Violence is good at fixing Damien's mood. 

Oz stares at him, silent and judging. They seem to be scrutinizing him. Damien can't imagine why, though. He's got clothes on, his eyeliner is on point and he's pretty sure he shaved this morning as well. Normally he'd like Oz staring, but these are different circumstances. There's no adoration or lust in his stare, no fear either. Just… a stare. 

And, again, Damien does not like that. 

“You got a problem, noob?” He stands up tall, narrowing his eyes and balling a hand up into a fist. 

Oz shakes their head, frowning. “No, I just... You…”

“I what? Huh?” Damien steps closer. “What is it, you fucking loser?”

“... You're awfully calm today, that's all. I was just wondering if you're okay.” Oz stares at him with big, curious eyes as he steps closer. Their hand comes up as they step closer and oh fuck they're real fucking close.

Oz is now mere centimeters from Damien, in perfectly reasonable kissing distance. That's what's gonna happen here, right? Damien fails to think of any other valid reason Oz might get so close to Damien's perfectly kissable lips. He's suddenly very thankful he put on his favorite lip balm today. His lips are especially nice right now, if it were ever to come down to then making out. 

Damien's totally down to make out with Oz in the middle of a dodgeball game. He could get those billion teeth of Oz’s all over his neck, too, and maybe his hands on that nice ass of theirs if he's lucky. 

Oz, however, does not seem to be on the same page as Damien. Instead of kissing Damien for all he's worth (which, by the way, is a LOT), Oz cups his cheeks and forms a mouth just to deliver the most shit-eating grin Damien has ever seen. They then whisper to Damien a small, smug “Long live the king.”

And before Damien can question it, he is hit in the back by a ball so hard he falls over face first onto the floor.  

Coach calls him out, and Damien is forcibly removed from the battlefield. He's given an exit like the warrior he is- dragged out by the Wolfpack, their glorified dog slobber making his mascara run. 

It would normally piss him off to Heaven and back- fuck, he would've slaughtered the whole lot as soon as the first drop of doggy drool touched his skin! But thankfully for the herd, Damien's mind is somewhere else. Somewhere that's far, far away from high school and his raging, flaming boner for makeup.

Damien's mind is on Oz and the fact that he completely thought they were going to make out or something of the sort. It's not that he's disappointed, he's just upset that they didn't kiss. And that, in itself, is a problem regardless of whether Damien has nice makeup or not. 

If anyone else had dared to get up in Damien's face like that, they would have been stabbed on the spot and had their fingers roasted off with his trusty Fire Knife™. The problem is that it wasn't anyone else. It was Oz and Damien refuses to stab Oz. Oz would just… absorb the knife into their body and spit it back out into Damien's eye, because they're just badass like that. Everyone knows that by now. 

It's pretty rare for someone to meet, let alone surpass Damien's standards. And for a wimpy-looking, dorky little noob like Oz to do it? Damien isn't sure if he's entirely okay with that. Does that make them extra hardcore or does it mean Damien's standards are lower? 

“...Nah,” Damien mumbles to himself. Oz is a fucking catch. They could fuck anyone they wanted, probably. That's just how cool and bold Oz is. 

Damien smiles. He likes Oz. A lot. They're not very loud or talkative, but they're great at listening to Damien's crazy arson plans. And they're super good at destruction and murder, and they never really questioned Damien's love for makeup or anything else weird about him. 

Then, like another dodgeball to the head, it hits him. 

Not only is Damien kind of (kind of) falling for Oz, he also knows nearly nothing about their interests besides the occasional knife throwing. For all Oz seems willing to do whatever Damien wants, they're never asking to do something they like. And he's dead serious on this one. There's no way Oz actually likes going to wreck buildings at three in the morning, or that they like chugging alcohol by the keg while surrounded by fire and death. 

_Fuck_. Does Oz have a life outside of pandering to Damien's interests? 

He really, really hopes so, because his goals would be impossible otherwise. It would really hurt the whole ‘make them fall in love by indulging them in things they like’ plan if Oz doesn't have things they like. 

Of course, though, Oz has stuff they like. Like the color yellow, for example. 

It's not much, but it's a start. Besides, Damien is capable of squeezing information from whoever he wants. He's pretty sure someone in this fucked-up school has some grasp on Oz’s interests. 

He just… has to go search for that person, which sucks, because Damien hates having to search for things. 

But he’ll do it anyways, just for Oz. 

 


	5. damien is bad at listening

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> me: oh ill be able to finish the last.. 200 words when i get home lmao
> 
> also me: *gets home, writes 50 words and passes out on laptop*
> 
> anyways.... im not sure about this one?? Like.. idk how it turned out. I just kinda,,, realized that for them to go on a date they gotta ask each other out u know?? And idk how good i am at love

"What do you mean Oz only has three friends?” Damien stares in horror at Liam and Vera as they break the news to him. Nothing more, nothing less. Just that Oz has three close, close friends and that they don't feel like helping Damien.  “So.. you guys actually expect me to go ask them these things myself?”

Vera scoffs. “Yes. Unless you want to pay me in mercenaries again.”

Damien turns to Liam for help. Liam offers no words or advice, instead he continues to sip his gourmet blood like nothing is happening. This only worsens Damien's mood. 

He desperately tries to think of some reason to make Vera share the info she surely has. Nothing useful comes to mind, though, leaving Damien to use his next best option. He stands up, puffs out his chest and whips out his snake knife (snife?) with a glare. “If you don't fucking help me, I'll…”

“You'll what, Damien?” Vera doesn't even blink. 

Damien hates to admit it, but he can't bring himself to finish the sentence. He might be reckless and aggressive, but he's not stupid. Vera could end his life with the blink of an eye if she wanted, and threatening her is… stupid, to say the least. 

Still. He has a job to do, and if Vera or Liam aren't going to help him, then they can fuck off. Oz is infinitely more important than anything else Damien has going on in his life right now (not that there was much to begin with.)

Damien checks his watch. His watch is burned at the edges, the battery having exploded long ago due to the extreme temperatures of Hell. It's no use, though it wouldn't have been much help anyways. All the numbers are replaced with little pictures of fire. He turns to face Liam. “Hey Liam, what time is it?”

“Time for you to leave me alone. Your eyeshadow is too shimmery to match your shirt and it makes me want to vomit. Please go away.” Liam goes back to sipping his artisan lunch. 

He feels a small tinge of anger, but brushes it off. Just because Damien has no way of telling time doesn't mean he can't make the best of his lunch period. 

With a sudden surge of determination, Damien whirls around to scan over the cafeteria. Oz is sitting at a table off to the side, listening intently to Coach’s speech of the hour. They seem awfully calm for someone that's alone with Coach, and Damien respects that. He can barely  _ look  _ at Coach without feeling overwhelmed, but for Oz to actually speak to him and even take the weird pills Coach offers? 

_ Astounding _ . Damien's pretty sure that's a good word to describe Oz. He had heard some loser in the hall use it earlier, and though he's not entirely sure of its meaning, it seems like an Oz word. 

And Damien likes Oz. 

“Hey, noob. You busy?” Damien slides into the seat next to Oz with the most charming grin he has. He even winks at Oz for extra effect.

Oz visibly tenses. They glance briefly at Coach, who is rambling off on his own, and then back at Damien. Then they shake their head. “No… not really.”

“Great! Then we can chat. And you know what we're gonna chat about?” Damien can't help but lean in towards Oz as he speaks. 

“Uh… burning orphanages?” 

“Nah. That shit's nice and all,” Damien admits. “But the matter at hand is that we've got some important shit to talk about.” He watches Oz react in very…  _ Oz _ -like manners. Their eyes widen and they shrink back, clearly unsure of how to respond. 

“What is it?”

Damien's grin grows bigger. “You. We're gonna talk about you and there's nothing you can do about it.”

Oz is awfully cute when they're startled like this. Are they always like this? Damien is half tempted to say something stupid to keep them all wide-eyed. But he knows that Oz might not like that, so he doesn't. That's not how you win small, otherworldly monsters in sweater vests over. 

“So, noob, tell me. What do you do for a living?” Damien decides to start out simple. Normally simple means stuff like favorite colors or foods, but Damien already knows those two. Oz likes yellow and, for food, either pizza or the souls of the innocent. So, again, he starts out with a different kind of simple. "Uh… you like jazz?”

Oz blinks like the confused loser they are. “Uhm… I… I exist for a living. A- And no, I don't like jazz.” 

_ Well, fuck. They're not being very helpful.  _

“Look, you cotton-wearing fucker. I just want to know you better,” Damien groans. “Tell me  _ something  _ about yourself, alright? I'll even say please if you want.”

“O-oh. Well…” Oz taps their chin in thought. “I grew up in the shadow realm. My mom's some kind of Eldritch horror. I have two sisters and three other siblings.”

Damien feels like he should be taking notes. He has half a mind to whip out his trusty fire-patterned notebook and start copying all this down. Would that be considered rude? Damien hopes not. 

Oz shows no signs of stopping. “Uh… I'm fluent in three types of sign language. My favorite ice cream is the one with cookie dough in it, or maybe plain vanilla. I don't like green tea, or anchovies on my pizza. Also I lied about burning. My clothes burn but my body doesn't.” 

Damien nods, listening intently. They have a really nice voice- soft but almost sultry in tone. Soothing as fuck. Even if they pause or stutter, they still keep Damien's full attention. Damien is pretty sure Oz could read him the bible like a bedtime story and Damien would still sleep like a baby, regardless of whether he's alive or not. 

Oz doesn't have their mouth on right now, so they're communicating with some kind of telepathy. Though it's sick as fuck, Damien finds himself wondering how Oz's voice would sound when produced through more physical means. He had never really paid attention to their voice before, and is now silently cursing himself out for not doing it sooner. 

Somewhere between thinking of Oz's voice and pretty white rows of teeth, Damien's mind hits the gutter. Mostly about pretty, jagged teeth on his neck, because Damien is a slut for monsters with sharp edges. Also about said teeth (and mouth) on… other areas of his body. 

But those thoughts are besides the point! Damien is a dumb demon who does dumb things- and in this case, his Dumb Action of the day includes him staring directly at Oz  for about ten seconds straight. Then, with zero warning, he opens his mouth and speaks the first thing on his mind. 

“Your voice is hot. Like… really fucking hot.” 

Oz blushes. A lot. And that's pretty impressive considering their body is a literal shadow. They also shut up, which sucks for Damien. No more stupid, sexy voice for him to listen to. 

There's a brief moment between them where neither of them speak. Damien just grins at Oz like the shameless bastard he is, and Oz's face grows progressively redder and redder. Finally, Oz recollects themself enough to give Damien a questioning look and ask, “Is there… Why ask me to talk about myself then?”

“Huh? Oh.” Damien shrugs, twirling around the knife in his hand absentmindedly in attempt to keep his thoughts in order. “I just realized we never do stuff that  _ you  _ like. And that I don't know much about you. So… I tried to think of stuff noobs like, kinda…? But I fucked up. And asking Vera for help wasn't good either, and then I tried to ask you but…”

Damien feels stupider as he realizes he didn't think this through, at all. It makes him angry and gives him the sudden urge to punch something. 

Oz laughing at him without warning surely doesn't help him any. They laugh, and it's such a stupidly warm and happy laugh that Damien feels…  _ something.  _ He feels something and it makes his face grow red with either embarrassment or anger. 

“You know… you could just ask me out. That's a thing you can do.” Oz reaches out and pats Damien's back gently, another smaller laugh coming from them. “Dates are really good ways to get to know people. You wanna go out? Saturday night, I mean.”

“Fuck yeah I do!” Damien half-shouts in an attempt to regain his normal composure. “You, me, and some dinner, you hear me Oz?!”

Oz nods. “Yup. And it's gonna be a  _ nice  _ dinner, alright? Then we can go terrorize the town.”

“Dinner and destruction!” Damien nods vigorously. “Saturday night!”

Then Oz gets up, waving politely at Damien as they gather their things. He watches as Oz leaves the cafeteria, probably heading off to class like noobs tend to do. 

He stares after Oz for a few moments. And then he realizes, with varying amounts of excitement, that he just scored himself a date with sweet, deadly little Oz. Damien doesn't even know how dating works outside of the trashy romantic dramas he watches at home, and he doubts those are accurate portrayals of romance. 

Damien then stands up. He feels his grin grow as he tries to plan out his weekend. They're gonna go out together and eat dinner and maybe (maybe) get to do butt-stuffs. 

_ Fuck,  _ he's excited. Damien should go burn something to burn off all this excitement he's feeling. That's just how excited he is to go on a date with Oz. 


End file.
